<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Asshole (affectionate) by Lillow</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29857506">Asshole (affectionate)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillow/pseuds/Lillow'>Lillow</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Murderbot Diaries - Martha Wells</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Other, dont worry about why amena is there, im the author and i said so, listen art and mb are just really stupid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:21:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>893</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29857506</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillow/pseuds/Lillow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>ART and Murderbot have a fight, and it's really stupid.</p><p>I wrote this really quick, so its maybe not the most polished, but it was fun.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Asshole Research Transport &amp; Murderbot (Murderbot Diaries)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>84</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Asshole (affectionate)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Yes, well, it’s not my fault you have bad taste, ART, so why are you making it my problem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I disrespectfully disagree, </span>
  </em>
  <span>ART shot back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The argument had gotten kind of heated, and we had been forced to drag it out of my room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t recall asking for your opinion, asshole,” I said, side stepping a concerned looking Seth. What was he concerned about? I knew for a fact there were no immediate dangers aboard or outside of ART, so I didn’t really care.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, I’m the asshole? You’re the one who started it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> the one who started it. I was trying to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice</span>
  </em>
  <span> and keep this polite, but I guess that’s impossible with you,” I was more than a little bitter about this fight, honestly. I made my way through the recreation/(argument) lounge area and towards the kitchen to fetch the drone that had gone offline about four minutes ago. I passed by Iris and Amena, who were playing some game on a board with black and white pieces. It looked familiar, but I didn’t care enough to look it up in my archives.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>ART made a noise not dissimilar to the disbelieving snort I had heard Iris make more than once when she was faced with pure dumbassery and couldn’t contain her feelings. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The day you’re polite about a disagreement is the day my debris deflection array isn’t just a bunch of fucking guns.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I rolled my eyes, turning the drone over in my hand. There was the issue. The fan had become warped from overheating. I rubbed my thumb over it, my face doing something complicated. I recalled this drone was much older than the rest, the last remaining drone from when I worked for the company, having miraculously survived in a bag of Ratthi’s gear when my PresAux team and I had been rescued. Dr. Mensah had returned it to me the first time I came to Preservation Station. It was about at the end of it’s lifespan, if I thought about it. It had been one of the few to survive the invasion of ART; having remained mostly with Amena. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stupid cheap company parts; the one from PreservationAux were much higher quality, and once I had modded them with ART’s assistance and materials they were expected to last even longer, and the drones ART had given me were even better than those. I should just discard this one, but I found I couldn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a minute, before I could think too hard about why the idea of tossing the drone into the recycler repulsed me so much, one of ART’s big maintenance drones came over and carefully took it from my hands. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I can fix it, </span>
  </em>
  <span>it said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh shut the fuck up, don’t try to be nice to me, asshole, I’m not done being mad at you,” I huffed and followed the drone to engineering, but my mood wasn’t nearly as sour as it had been a minute ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As a new drone replaced the broken drone’s station, I saw Amena and Iris looking after us; with Iris looking as concerned as Seth. They looked at eachother, questioning.</span>
</p><p><span>“What was </span><em><span>that</span></em> <span>about?” Amena asked. Iris looked like she was focused on something else, and then she smiled.</span></p><p>
  <span>“Peri and SecUnit disagreed on the newest season of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sanctuary Moon. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Apparently, Peri is disappointed with the latest arc while SecUnit liked it,” she said. ART had clearly snitched on me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amena’s expression relaxed and she laughed. “Oh. Well, that makes sense. It was great,” she said. Iris’s expression went from amused to baffled. “You can’t be serious. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrible.</span>
  </em>
  <span> They killed off the best character, and the station doctor’s whole arc was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid</span>
  </em>
  <span>, they totally butchered their character.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This rapidly devolved into an argument, and it was extremely petty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sighed, watching them and watching ART’s facilities repair my drone. “Ugh, is that what we look like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No, that’s what </span>
  </em>
  <span>you </span>
  <em>
    <span>look like.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Asshole.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Moody jerk.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Capricious bastard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Monkey see, monkey do.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I was so completely caught off guard at being compared to a monkey, I lost my next insult, and the four I had queued after it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever, clearly you’re too stupid to see how wrong you are,” but it had lost all it’s venom, and we fell into silence as I watched my drone be repaired. When it was done, ART flew it at my face and I caught it. It hadn’t been flying fast enough to do any real damage, and I took control and it lifted out of my hand, returning to it’s patrol.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I monitored it’s flight for some time, pulling status reports as it went to make sure it was fully functional. It was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another minute of silence, and ART pinged me. It was a formal invite requesting to watch the latest </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sanctuary Moon </span>
  </em>
  <span>stand alone movie we had both already seen six times, the one we agreed was pretty great.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>It was stupid, and I felt just as stupid checking the “Yes” box and returning it to sender.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re still an asshole,” I said, returning to my room, and settling into my plush desk chair, pulling my knees to my chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Obviously; it’s literally in my name.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I couldn’t help it, I maybe smiled a little at that, and ART started the movie.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>